Supposing the Mind
Which will have remained the same.
Marginalia of the mind: a snail’s pace.
My mind the next cloud that floats by.
Two clouds at the same time, my mind for the moment.
Wings for my mind. This is my future.
My mind is the old pond seeking haiku.
Light shaft, you are the rail train of my mind
thundering on to the next station at first light of day.
Campfire and adventures, ancient oratory
stored for the mind’s re-interpretations.
Mind, I retrieve you from the bottom
of the clothes basket, just when you felt cosy.
Clothesline: what have I pegged my mind to.
A fold of the mind, laying my thoughts aside.
Skull, meet mind. Too many weird
ornaments in the garden of the mind.
Tree rings, the long life of the mind.
A haystack of a mind. A message for horses
and suddenly my mind has made a unicorn
A box of raisins, the mind reveals itself
in fragments of fruit. A wedge of orange
does not make of itself a whole thought.
Drawstring of the mind; but the mind
they say, never sleeps.
That, I allow, is the future of my mind.
Benita Kape © 11.4.2018
Our (optional, as always) prompt for the day is taken from one of the prompts that Kwoya Fagin Maples suggests in here interview: a poem that addresses the future, answering the questions “What does y(our) future provide? What is your future state of mind? If you are a citizen of the “union” that is your body, what is your future “state of the union” address?”